Breathe
by SuzukiLi
Summary: Loki's mind is a maze of horror and darkened mirrors, but if the Avengers want to save their world, it is a maze they must search and unravel before it is too late. A remodel of a previous work "listen", please read and review! Some disturbing scenes.
1. Chapter 1

Hey there! This is a remodel of a previous story I started called Listen. This goes into more backstory and is a slight change in the storyline. Hope you enjoy it, and please remember to review and let me know what you think!

SuzukiLi xx

**London, England 1576**

"Brother, may we go home now."

The taller of two boys turned to give his younger brother a very blue eyed glare and sighed impatiently, silently cursing the idea of bringing the youngling on his journey to Midgard.

"Silence your moaning, little one. We will return to Asgard shortly," the elder snapped, turning away and continuing their journey through the muddy London street. The tall, blonde brother strode quickly, hair knocking his shoulders with each step, whilst the child behind him stumbled through the puddles as he trotted to keep up with his brother, the hem of his ever so slightly long, emerald cape tripping him with each step. When they eventually came to a stop outside of a pub, next to an alley, Loki let out a long, tired sigh. The elder brother turned to the younger.

"I will not be long, you must wait here for me. Loki, promise me you will not leave this spot!"

Loki looked around with wide eyes. The street was dark, the roads covered in filth and an eerie silence hung in the thick mist. He would not have moved from under the street light, even if he had wanted too.

"I promise, Thor."

Thor smiled at his little brother, and patted him on the shoulder, lingering for an extra moment to give Loki a small squeeze. He turned and entered the pub, the door slamming shut behind him, leaving Loki standing out in the cold, dark street. He huddled his cloak around him tighter, the chill of the English weather biting at his shoulders and shaking his bones. His breath billowed out in clouds in front of him and he gazed down at the floor with tired green eyes. He was now beginning to regret pestering Thor to take him on one of his little adventures. A sudden shift in the atmosphere caused Loki's eyes to whip up quickly, wide, glancing around the clearing. Nothing appeared different, but every hair on his body was on end. He wrapped the cloak tighter and glanced to the pub, hoping Thor would reappear in his usual glow of golden light and take the young prince far away from here.

"Awfully cold out for a _child_," whispered a voice. Loki trembled, feeling the soft brush of lips against the back of his ear. Loki whipped around, his chest heaving in shaking breaths but there was no one there. He paused and looked down, forcing down a sob that swollen the inside of his chest. He felt something wet against his cheek and spun around, again meeting nothing but the still blackness of the night. He started to back away, his heels stumbling against the hem of his cloak, backing and backing until his back hit something. Something soft. Loki let out a very audible gasp as his entire body froze. The soft thing against his back was breathing and... laughing? He felt long, bony fingers slide over his shoulder and felt the slight stab of untrimmed nails against his chest.

"A little small for a Jotun?" the stranger whispered again, this time, Loki feeling breath against his cheek.

"I... I'm Asgardian," Loki corrected, trying to stop his lip from trembling as he heard a snort and low chuckle behind him. He finally whimpered as the points of a forked tongue stabbed his cheek, leaving a small trail of saliva on his skin.

"Do you know who I am? Little Asgadian..."

Loki nodded, eye watery with the threat of tears.

"Astaroth, god of lust. You're a demon. From Niflheim."

"A smart little Asgardian! And pretty... very pretty."

Loki breathed deeply, glancing back to the pub where his brother was, but Astaroth began to slowly turn Loki with those clawed fingers. Loki could no longer see the pub, but instead was staring up into the glowing amber eyes of the rogue demon. Astaroth's smooth mouth split into a wide smile, cracked, pointed yellow teeth shining in the moonlight. The points of his forked tongue protrued from his teeth and he licked the side of Loki's face again, moaning happily at the whimper that left Loki's mouth.

"A shapeshifter! Perfect!" Astaroth exclaimed, pulling back and staring down at the child through the icy white lashes. Loki stared back in terror, his mouth hanging slightly agape, his eyebrows pushed up in anxiety, small white fingers grasping the front of Astaroth's ripped, dusty shirt. Loki had never seen a demon before, at least not a real one. Astaroth was even more terrifying than the tapestries and paintings that hung in the library. His skin was porcelain white and cracked, like broken china. He had long, ragged black and grey hair that hung down to his waist in rat tails and thick black, patchy eyebrows. He had a red scar, that jagged along his left eye down across his face. Loki swallowed nervously, keeping his stare fixed and Astaroth ran a claw down his face. The demon pulled a long, amber dagger from his sleeve and pressed it against Loki's cheek, twisting it into his delicate skin until it popped, a small splash of blood bouncing to his chin. "Turn into a girl."

Loki shook his head quickly, cursing the tear that escaped his eye as he began to back further and further away until his back hit the wall. The forked tongue pricked threateningly against his cheek and clawed grip tightened on his shoulders. Loki let out a small moan of defeat as his boyish features reluctantly softened into the roundness of a girl. The demon let out a low rumble in his throat and dug one set of clawed fingers into Loki's waist, the other into one of Loki's thighs, lifting until Loki's legs were off the floor and wrapped around his waist.

"Please don't..." Loki whispered, tears streaming his cheeks as the demon ground against Loki's hips, flicking his forked tongue down Loki's face and neck. Astaroth covered Loki's mouth with one hand and sliced away his clothing with amber dagger.

Loki could only keep from screaming behind the sweaty palm of his tormentors hand, wishing that Thor would come for him as he was raped in the dark Alley of the London street, alone.


	2. Chapter 2

Loki stumbled through the golden corridors of the palace until he reached the huge mahogany door that guarded his secretive chambers. Shaking, he wrenched the serpentine silver door handle and threw himself into the darkness, letting the door slam shut behind him. He snapped his fingers, fire immediately springing from the tall green candles in the room, throwing a dull yet calming glow across his walls. With a frustrated shriek, he started to peel away his torn clothes from crawling skin, stumbling into his private wash room to fill the bath with hot scented water. The sound of shaken sobbing filled the large, steamed room as Loki tried desperately to calm his breathing, stepping carefully into the knee deep water and staring at his broken body in the mirror that lined the wall of his bathroom. He ran a finger down the steamed glass, trailing the image of his shivering body.

He started with his face, taking his cream wash cloth and carefully wiping at the pink tear tracks on his cheeks, trying to wash away the redness of his eyes. He leant closer to look into the mirror, staring in at his eyes. His dark pupils were circled by the most un natural of greens, a deep emerald that glowed in the light. He had always admired the tiny flecks of gold that circled the edge of his iris, and zig zagged through the endless pools of green. Tonight though, his eyes were dulled, they lacked the mischievous glint that usually flickered behind them. Tonight, his eyes looked just as cloudy as the mirror he was gazing in.

He sighed, closing his eyes and moving down to his neck, scrubbing at the bruising and the teeth marks that lined his jaw and trailed down to his shoulder, indenting his delicate ivory skin. Another pained gasp forced its way through his quivering lips, echoing around the marble room as fresh tears sprang from his eyes. Small streams of blood leaked from his shoulder and ran down his arm and chest, smearing across his neck and dripping down into the now pink water below him. He scrubbed frantically at his torso, whispering under his breath and letting out soft cries as the pain stabbed at his ribs. When he eventually stopped and peeled the now pink wash cloth from his body, his skin was red, raw and bleeding... yet he still felt dirty. He took the cloth down to wipe away the blood from inside his thighs and to try and soothe the bruises on his knees, openly crying now as he stared at the unrecognisable body in the mirror. He washed the dirt from the alley wall from his back, ignoring the grazes that criss crossed his skin and finally his hand returned to the base of his abdomen, just below his belly button.

He could feel warmth. It was the one part he had not been able to turn back into male form. It pulsed inside him, and he rubbed a gentle hand along his skin, trying to soothe the heaviness he now felt inside him. He let the water run over his hair and pour from his face, all the while, those green eyes remained locked onto his image in the mirror. He let out another scream of frustration, slamming his hand against the mirror, and turning away, slowly sinking to his knees, crying aloud as the water hit his skin. Loki was young, but he was in no way naive. He knew exactly why he could not turn that part of him back. He stroked his stomach with a soft, gentle hand and took in a deep breath.

_Breathe, Loki. Just breathe..._

The boy inhaled deeply, until he felt his stomach swell beneath his hand. He opened one eye and glanced down at his round tummy and slowly let the breath flow out, until it was as flat as it was before. With his new found calmness, he turned the dial that controlled the water, turning it off and lifting the plug. He stepped out from the bathing pool, careful not to slip on the wet tiles and wrapped a large fluffy white towel around his waist and one around his shoulders. Carefully, he piled all of his clothes into the middle of his room and whispered to them until they erupted into green flames, slowly burning away until there was nothing left but ash. Loki gazed around his room and a small half smile came about his face. He had always felt safe in here. Thor could not stand it in here.

_It is too uncharacteristically chaotic for such a precise and particular person._

Loki smirked. He felt most at ease in his chaos. He had tens of thousands of books, none of which were in order, and were piled to the high ceilings of his chamber. There were writings on papers, on his desk, on his bed, on the floor, in the wardrobe... yet Loki knew the exact location of every single item that was in here. Thor's chambers on the other hand, were, as Loki had once put it, _disgustingly organised_, with everything in some sort of order, neat and put in its proper place.

_But why would you not have your room arranged in this way? It makes no sense, to organise your chambers in such a way that you can not find anything! _His elder brother had argued.

_That's exactly my point Thor. Only _I _know where everything is. If someone were to break into my chambers, they would never find what it was they sought, because it would not be where they expected to find it! _

He remembered the curious yet impressed look his beloved brother had given him that day and he let out a small laugh, motioning to a large green book 3/4's of a way up the pile so that it flew into his hands.

_Thor would never find anything anyway, even if it were in order! _

Loki thumbed quickly through the pages until he found what he wanted and slumped down onto his bed, reading and re reading every single sentence, absently stroking his tummy as he did.

"Damn..." he sighed finally, throwing down the book and letting his fingers brush against his stomach. "This will take some explaining."


	3. Chapter 3

Clint threw down his head set, flinching slightly as he heard the glass lenses crack against the tiled floor. The rest of his team slowly removed theres, placing them on the table in front of them, Tony's headset still clutched in his hands, chocolate eyes focused on his trembling hand. Clint was stood now, a shaking finger pointed at Bruce, who sighed, rubbing his brow.

"This changes nothing!" Clint shouted, though the tremble in his voice lacked the power of his words. Natasha rolled her icy gaze up to her friend and sighed, shaking her hea.d

"It changes everything," she said softly, pushing the headset across the table away from her, as if it was poison.

"So... so that wasn't a dream we just saw... that... _that_ was a memory?" Tony asked, finally looking up from the empty piece of space he was staring at. Bruce nodded, rubbing the tips of his fingers together as he spoke, a nervous trait that he had.

"Yeah... that was a memory. A memory that I'm very surprised our resident God of Thunder never bought up," Steve said, abruptly, and very unlike himself. Everyone turned to stare at Thor, the same accusatory glare hidden behind their questioning faces. Thor inhaled deeply, staring at each and everyone with a measure of guilt and regret.

"It was... it was a situation that we were forbidden of speaking of... too lay with a-"

"He didn't lay with anyone!" Tony shouted, slamming his fist down on the table and springing up, "He was raped!"

"It is not considered rape if he possessed the power to stop it, which he did-"

"He was a goddamn child!"

"He was a manipulative liar! He craved the attention, he revelled in it!" Thor roared, standing now, to match Tony's fiery gaze.

"So he deserved it? The CHILD deserved to be RAPED, then left PREGNANT?"

Thor sucked in a deep breath, but exhaled it slowly and closed his eyes. His time as King had taught him patience and most of all, tranquillity. He sat back down, slowly, gently rubbing his forehead with a tense grip.

"Do you not think it still pains me to think of what happened to my brother, to my niece?" Thor said calmly, flicking those sapphire blue eyes back up to a still seething Tony. Natashsa quirked an eyebrow.

"Niece? So he kept the child?" she asked. Thor nodded.

"Yes. Loki has not always been the mad villain that you all know. Infact, my brother was always admired for his fairness and warmth. He loved that child the moment he realised that he was carrying her. And that love only grew. He loved her when he had to seal away his magic to protect her, he loved her when the pregnancy was so bad he could no longer walk... he even loved her when Allfather told him that it was likely he would not live too see her," Thor explained, the sadness taking over his eyes once more.

"So, the man that is lying in a coma, in my lab, was not always the man you knew?" Bruce said.

"No. Never that man. The Chitauri changed him."

"That would explain the eyes..." Clint muttered, staring down at his hands. The other looked him.

"What do you mean, Barton?" Steve asked, followed by a questioning nod from Tony.

"He... he had blue eyes when I was under his... under his spell. But, now... when we first took him in and he woke for a minute, his eyes were green," Clint said, slowly realising now, exactly what had happened. "My eyes were blue when I was put under the spell."

"In that case," came the sound of Fury's voice, who as per usual, had been hiding in the shadows. He stepped forward, a solemn frown on his face. "This changes everything."


	4. Chapter 4

_Hi guys! Finally have a working laptop and wifi all set up so will be updating regularly!_

_Anybody seen Thor 2 yet? Isn't it awesome! _

_Please Please Please leave a review if you are reading, they inspire me to update as fast as possible and I really enjoy hearing from y'all! I'd love to know if you can guess where each chapter is going and what is going to happen, helps me to see as a writer if I am getting my point across! _

_So enjoy this little snippet, I am working on the next update. _

_Love you guys! _

_..._

It had been a long time since Phil had interrogated a witness; and when he took a seat at the small metallic table and looked across into the wide, frightened eyes of the 14 year old he was questioning, he remembered why. He placed his paper file on the table in front of him, in line with the tables edge, and with a swift flick of his index finger, he flipped open the cover.

"Monica Weisz..." he read out loud, scanning the profile in front of him. "14 years old... born in Ohio... Mutant."

He paused at the word and looked back up to Monica, who was still staring at him with a terrified expression. He smiled at her, and closed the file, folding his hands on the table in front of him.

"My apologies, Monica, it's been a while since I have interviewed somebody. My name is Agent Coulson, but you may call me Phil," he said as softly as possible, his smile widening by a fraction when he noted her shoulder relax.

"Am you here because I'm a mutant?" Monica asked, pushing a lock of her dirty blonde hair out of her face, brown eyes focused on Phil.

"Not exactly. I'm more interested in a woman you met a few weeks ago," Phil said and there was no mistaking the look that clouded Monica's eyes. "Can you tell me what you know about her?"

Monica looked down at her hands, gently nibbling on her bottom lip as she thought. She looked back up too Phil and said;

"You can feel her. You feel her before you see her."

Phil re-opened the file and turned to the page after Monica's profile. One side contained blurred images, the other was blank. This was where he started to write what Monica was saying.

"What do you mean you could feel her?"

Monica pulled her jacket tighter around her as she thought back to the woman's appearance in her dance studio.

"I was... I was practising in the studio at school. I was alone and then... it started to get cold. Really really cold. I knew it wasn't my imagination, because the mirrors began to ice and the floor became wet," she explained, gently rubbing her arms as if she was stood in the same cold room. "Water poured down the walls, but it had no source. It just... appeared from the ceiling."

"Uh huh. Was there anything else strange before you saw her?" Phil asked, jotting down more notes.

"Everything seemed to lose its colour. The dance studio's have always been colourful. Pink walls, blue floor, purple curtains... but everything was grey. My skin was grey, my eyes were grey... I felt like I had never felt happiness before. I couldn't think of any good or nice memories. Only pain," she said, and she closed her eyes, breathing deeply as she thought back to that day.

"When did you actually see her?"

"She came out of the mirror," Monica whispered, pulling one of her legs up onto her chair and hugging her knee to her chest. "She was so bright. Everything was grey, but she... she was vibrant. She had black hair, that shone in a way I didn't know it could. She had pale skin with a soft pink blush to her cheeks and blood red lips."

"What about her eyes? What colour were her eyes?"

"It was weird... When she first spoke to me, they were green. She was quiet and kind and desperate," Monica reflected, remembering the way the strange woman had knelt down to where Monica sat stunned on the floor and gave her a warm smile.

"Desperate?" Phil asked with a small frown, putting down his pen and leaning slightly more across the table, stroking his chin with his left hand.

"She said she didn't have much time. That she needed my help," Monica said, pulling a piece of crumpled, stained paper from her pocket. "She told me to get S.H.I.E.L.D.S attention, and then to give this to the Thunderer."

Phil opened his hand and Monica placed the paper in it, letting her fingers linger for a moment, before pulling her hands back into her jacket pockets. Phil unfolded the note and frowned down at it. It was in some strange, ancient language, and written in a purple ink.

"This is for Thor?" Phil asked, waggling the paper with his fingers. Monica nodded, shuffling closer to the table.

"She said he would know what it is." Phil nodded, folding the paper, and placing it in his pocket.

"You said her eyes were green at _first_. What did you mean by that?"

"They kept turning a really bright blue, but she was fighting it."

"What happened when she couldn't fight it anymore?" Phil asked, picking up his pen once more and scratching away furiously in the file.

"She vanished. Poof. Wisps of green smoke circled around her feet and then up her body until she was gone. As soon as she vanished, it was like she was never there. The colour was back, the ice was gone... I could breathe again."

Phil let out a small 'hmmm' as he wrote down his final few words.

"So that was it? She didn't say anything else?"

"She uh... yeah. Before she vanished, when her eyes were still green, she took my arms and said, 'Don't let him leave any doors un-opened'," Monica admitted with a small frown, staring up at Phil. "But I don't know what she meant, I'm sorry."

Phil smiled, closing his file and standing up.

"Don't apologise. You've been more than enough help. Just one more thing," he said, placing one of the blurred photos on the table in front of her.

"Is this the woman you saw?"

Monica picked up the photo and examined it closely. It showed a woman, with long shiny black hair, glancing over her shoulder at the camera, her blood red lips twisted into a wicked smile and bright blue eyes glinting viciously. She looked back to Phil.

"Yes, but I doubt that _this_ was the woman who asked for my help."

Phil nodded once more, taking the photo back and slipping it into the file.

"Thank you, Miss Weisz for your help."

He turned and walked towards the door, pushing it open, and leaving 14 year old Monica Weisz alone in the interview room of St Lawrences psychiatric hospital.


End file.
